


Stars

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel
Genre: Cancer, Civilian AU, Feels, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Spideypool Family, Star Wars References, Superfamily, Superfamily (Marvel), but only for Wade, he's not deadpool sorry, i love him as dp but it doesn't completely work for the way I want this fic to go so sorry now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "You can't see stars' beauty without darkness." - UnknownWhen Wade is diagnosed with cancer what will become of he and Peter's relationship?





	1. Chapter 1

Cancer. 

Terminal.

Options.

Weeks.

Help.

That’s all Peter got out of this meeting. He was completely zoned out, staring at the greyish-blue carpet of the doctor’s office. He wondered how often this doctor had to ruin people’s lives by saying this. You have cancer, or, your husband has cancer, or your wife, your child. Whoever it was, he had ruined so many people’s lives. Peter and Wade were just new names to the list. 

Peter wasn’t brought back to real life until Wade touched him. He took his hand and Peter looked up to him. Wade didn’t look scared, he never did. Wade looked to his husband then, he could tell by his reaction that Peter did indeed look scared. He was. He was more than scared. He was absolutely petrified. How do you react to finding out that your husband, your best and possibly only real friend in the whole damned world, had cancer? That the love of your life was going to die? What-- No, how? How was he supposed to react? Was there a proper reaction? He felt like crying. He also felt like ripping out his heart and setting it on fire. He felt like trying to find a way so he could suffer instead of Wade. 

Peter often had a thought. It was probably dumb, but… Why would you die for your partner? That was really selfish to him. Now, hear this out. If they die they are no longer in pain or suffering, but if they live without you then they are in pain. They’re alone. They have lost their other half.

Now, that he was losing his best friend, he thought  _ that _ was stupid. He didn’t want Wade to suffer and die, he rather it be him. However, he knew he was going to suffer a hell of a lot when he was gone; and he didn’t ever want Wade to go through that.

“Peter.” Wade whispered. He never called him by his first name. It really snapped him to attention though. Large but gentle hands gently wiped away something from his cheeks. Shit. Peter was crying. He didn’t realize it. “It’s okay.” 

“He said terminal.” He whispered, leaning into his hand then. 

“I have options Bedbug.” Pete thanked God he called him by one of his pet-names, it scared him when he got real serious toward him. It wasn’t in Wade’s nature. 

“I know, but it’s still scary.” He murmured as Wade moved to stand. Gently Wade lifted him into his arms and held him to his chest, while his husband had zoned out he had discussed everything about treatment and what would give him the longest life possible; which only seemed to be a few months at this point. Peter clung to his husband, unsure of the rest of their lives from this point on. 


	2. Chapter One

    “Are you doing chemo?” Peter asked as they sat at their dinner table, Wade was on his third plate of spaghetti, Peter was still spinning around noodles aimlessly from his first serving.

    “No.” Wade said softly. “Made it worse when I was younger.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I had it when I was a kid. Chemo almost killed me. Radiation works, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

    “I didn’t know you had cancer before.” He murmured almost inaudibly.

    “I didn’t think it was important. I haven’t had it for almost twenty years, Bedbug.” Wade said calmly and reached to grab Peter hand that was still twirling the fork. He was shaking. Whether it was from anxiety or not eating Wade couldn’t tell. His guess was both. Peter hadn’t eaten once today, and he barely spoke. When he got anxious he reacted in one of two ways. Everything comes pouring out or he shuts down and keeps it all to himself. Until now he had barely spoken to Wade. He didn’t exactly have the best coping habits. That petrified Wade. The thought of Peter, who could barely remember to feed himself, being left all alone. He took care of him. Wade was taking care of Spider-man. A fucking superhero. God, who would think that superheroes would have mental illnesses? Or any weakness that was so… human?

    After showers the two young men curled up in their king sized bed and cuddled real close. Peter wished it was Wade that was the superhero. That he was the one with the inhuman metabolism and immune system. That he was the one that wouldn’t get sick and… No. Wade wasn’t going to die. Peter wasn’t going to let that happen. He refused to let it even get close to that point.

    Wade stroked Peter’s ashen brown locks as gently as possible as he watched Star Wars: The Force Awakens. He knew Peter wasn’t paying attention, at all. He was thinking. If he was paying attention he would’ve told him something about how much he loved Ben Solo. He didn’t call him Kylo. Ever. He believed there was so much light left in him that it would be pointless to.

    “You alright, Bedbug?” Wade whispered, Peter was dead silent on his chest. He nodded, continuing said muteness. The larger of the two men then flipped them over, Peter being beneath his husband and pinned to the sheets.

    “What are you doing?” Peter finally spoke.

    “What did we talk about?” Wade whispered; kindly yet still firm.

    “Not to shut down.”

    “That’s what you’re doing, Parker.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    Wade paused. “Why are you apologizing?”

    “I’m upsetting you.” Pete murmured and avoided his gaze. He only looked back to him when his jaw was cupped, a gentle thumb rubbing down his cheekbone slowly. Silvery grey eyes remained staring into even softer browns, he traced the shape of his face with his hands. He felt every single dip and curve before he moved his hands to cup the back of Pete’s neck.

    “You have never upsetted me with your anxiety and you never will. You need to talk about this stuff, it’s eating you up Kid. And it doesn’t have to be me you tell if that makes you feel uncomfortable, like… Talking your dad. He knows what it’s like to--”

    “To lose his husband. I don’t want to be my dad.”

   

    Who would want to be like Captain America? You may think that that is a silly question, but nowadays it wasn’t. The once bold and dashing superhero was now rarely seen. The last time Peter saw him outside of Stark Tower or the Avenger’s “secret” lair was Tony’s funeral. Tony was human. He was decently old. They all knew that his arch reactors wouldn’t work forever. And they didn’t. Tony died from the debris that finally entered his heart. Bucky had died not too long before, from what they still didn’t know. Steve was beyond depressed. He had lost two of the three most important people in his life. Peter was all he had left. The only reason Steve hadn’t killed himself was so that Peter wouldn’t have lost both his parents within the same year. They ate dinner together twice a month, that was the only time Peter got to see him anymore. Oh, and for holidays. They all went to Stark Tower and spent the time there. Very few of the Avengers had family, and even fewer had family that they wanted to be with.

    Steve Rogers was a mess and since Peter found out about Wade that had become one of his main fears; that he would become just as bad as him. He knew that he didn’t have the genes for his depression, he was adopted. Still, he worried. He had problems with depression before and he still had issues with anxiety.

   

    “You aren’t your dad Petey.” Wade attempted to reassure.

    “Not yet.”

    With a small sigh he gave Pete a kiss on the nose. “Never.”

    “You don’t know that, I-I could--” Wade kissed him to stop him, cutting him off mid-sentence. Peter only pulled away to tell him that he was right, that it was possible. He knew it was.

   

    Peter and Wade fell asleep during the movie, Wade’s head on Pete’s stomach with the rest of him curled around his thin legs. His arms were wrapped around his husband’s hips, comfortably sleeping throughout the night. In the morning when Peter woke he gently ran a hand through blond tresses that were sprawled over his stomach. Hair that he feared would no longer be here, sooner than he knew it too. He couldn’t stand the thought of his literal model husband with no hair, his face sunken and gleaming with death. Anything other than the beautiful man he fell in love with. He feared his personality would change too. That he’d seldom make jokes, that he would be serious and solemn. He wouldn’t be his bright and up for literally anything husband anymore. He feared all of this. He just wanted his beautiful golden husband to stay the way he was.


	3. Chapter Two

    “Wade, I _want_ to stay.” Peter insisted as they pulled up to the hospital for Wade’s third treatment. It was his first chemo, the radiation just wasn’t working. They told him he had to try this or it’d be splitsville for Wade. And while he was okay with dying, he wasn’t okay with Peter being alone yet. He wasn’t sure he could take care of himself just yet.

    “No, you don’t. Stop saying that.” Wade growled softly. He had said no over a hundred times at this point. ”You don’t know what chemo does to a person, Peter. I don’t want you to see me like that.”

    “I’m going to see eventually, Wade. Y-You’re gonna lose weight and your hair and you’re going to look sick. I’m okay with that.” Peter said earnestly.

    “It’s not just physical Pete. It fuckin’ destroys you mentally.” He said as they pulled into the hospital’s lot. “Please. Go home and relax, or go do something in town, just… Just don’t stay here.” He leaned across the console to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be done in two hours. I love you Bedbug.”

    “I love you too.” He sighed and pecked his cheek softly before unlocking Wade’s door. With a squeeze to Peter’s hand he moved to get out. He shut the door behind him and went up to the door and waited for Peter to drive off.

    Peter did as told of him, driving home and going inside. Relaxing, however, was not something he would do. Anxiously he curled up on Wade’s side of the bed, hugging his pillow with all of his strength. The silence of his stress was punctured by the landline ringing, which scared him so much that he jumped out of bed and onto the wall. Pealing himself down with a nervous laugh he answered the phone.

    “Hello?” He answered softly and took a seat on the rug that was sprawled across their bedroom floor in front of their shared closet.

    “Peter,” Steve began on the other end of line. His voice was soft and kind. Warm.

    “Dad.” He smiled. He hadn’t spoken to him in a while. It felt like forever.

    “Can you visit me today? I’d like to have a talk with you.”

    “What about?” He asked softly, he hated when Steve spoke like that. Like a dad. Well, he was, but something in his voice really sent shivers down his spine.

    “Wade said you’ve been having some trouble with his diagnosis.”

    “Dad-- I don’t want to talk about that if I’m going to come over. That’s all Wade and I ever talk about anymore.”

    “I hear you’re not taking care of yourself.” Steve sighed. “Then again, I suppose that’s not new.”

    “What is that supposed to mean?”

    “Peter. We both know you need help with that sort of stuff, and that Wade is taking care of you. What are you going to do if he dies?”   

    “When he dies, you mean. And I’ll be fine.” Nervous fingers played with the edge of the rug. Slowly pulling out a thread and disassembling the rug, giving it a ragged look. As if it were old or a dog had chewed on it. He wished they had a dog, Wade was down but they didn’t have the time for one. They worked too much, and now with Wade’s treatments they were home even less.

    “Peter, I--”

    “You shouldn’t be telling me how to take care of myself. You’ve left the house maybe twice since Father died.” Peter half shouted. Immediately he was filled with a sense of regret. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

    Steve was silent, shocked his boy would ever say that. That wasn’t like Peter. “Peter, you’re not okay. We just want to make sure you’ll be okay before he’s gone.”

    “That’s not going to happen Dad. I have to go now. I’ll see you at dinner next week.” With that Peter got up and returned the landline to it’s dock on their bedside table. He went down to the car, he hadn’t taken off his shoes or jacket yet, and headed off to the hospital so he could get Wade.

    He arrived earlier than Wade had asked him to, but that was fine. He sat in the driver’s seat and kept the heat on, nearly falling asleep in the near silence of the lots. The only sounds were the occasional passing of a car, the wind of fall, and Pete’s breathing. He jumped up right in semi-fear when Wade opened the passenger seat, he smiled up to his husband whom immediately returned the grin. He looked pale, and his eyes were sunken in as if he’d been crying for hours.

    “Hey babe,” Wade grinned softly as he sank down in the car, it were as if he hadn’t got to sit all day. He immediately took Pete’s hand once they were driving again. “How was your day?” He smiled, attempting to make it seem like he wasn’t in any sort of pain.

    “It was alright. Dad called.” He said softly. “I didn’t do anything. I tried to nap but couldn’t.”

    “Why’d your dad call?”

    “He said you said i should talk to him.”

    “Oh. Right.” Wade murmured, not even attempting to play innocent.

    “He’s the last person I want to talk to about coping mechanisms. He hasn’t left the house in almost a year, Wade. He only eats because there’s someone else to make dinner every night. I don’t know if he showers. I-I think he’s worse than I am about taking care of ourselves. He’s not who I should talk to about anything, Wade.” He spewed out, Wade squeezed his hand. He could practically cut through his husband’s anxiety with a knife.

    “I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable talking to him than me.”

    “Why would I? You’re my best friend Wade. You’re my only friend.”

    “That’s the problem, kiddo. I’m one of your only friends and I’m the one stressing you out.”

    “You aren’t. And don’t say you are. It’s me. It’s me, I’m stressing myself out. I’m only hurting myself.” He sighed and squeezed his hand tightly as they reached the road they lived on, Peter had to let go of his hand so they could turn into the driveway. Once they were parked Pete turned to kiss him softly, they sat for a moment. Not even kissing. Not speaking. Just sitting, lips close but not touching. The only sound was the human ragged sound of their struggled breathing. Wade’s struggled because cancer was slowly taking over his lungs, and Peter’s struggled because the love of his life was dying beneath his fingertips.

    “Peter,” He began softly. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want to hurt you like this anymore. Seeing me slowly die and widdle away... It’ll be so much worse. I want to make you happy and then--”

    “You aren’t leaving me. You aren’t dying. Y-You’re going to be okay. You’re going to get better Wade.” Peter sputtered and held his hands even tighter.

    “Peter. I’m going to die. I know this, and so do you. You have to be okay with it.”

    “How am I supposed to be okay with that?” He whispered sincerely. “Would you be okay with me dying?”

    “If that was the only choice I’d have to be.”

    “No, Wade, you can’t say that. You don’t know that. You _can’t_ know that.” Peter clenched his fist that sat on his lap tight, tighter than he thought was possible. He wouldn’t have been phased in the slightest if he had broken a few of his own fingers. He didn’t though. Even so, it wouldn’t have hurt. Thanks superpowers! “I need to get some air.” He said as he got out of the car. He got into the backseat and pulled out the duffle-bag he kept his not-as-nice suit in. He moved the suit and just pulled out his extra mask, pushing back his hair before he pulled it. He made an irritated whine and pulled his glasses out from underneath the mask. With a deep breath he scaled the side of their home and up to the roof, jumping from roof to roof. This was his form of “taking a walk”, jumping roofs and swinging between buildings.

Wade worried. He always worried, there was good reason behind his fears though. When he and Pete were first together Peter wasn’t exactly in the best place mentally. No. Not at all. His anxiety and depression were probably at their worst. It was right Tony had died, Uncle Bucky too. Steve and him were fighting when they were actually talking, which wasn’t much Wade supposed.

It was two years ago almost, Wade thanked God (or whatever as he put it) everyday that he still had Peter and that he was better. The headline was _everywhere._ “Spider-man Attempts Suicide!” “Spidey drowns?” “First Iron Man, now Spidey?”

Peter had tried to drown himself in the suit. It, of course, didn’t work. Steve had dragged him out and took him to the Stark Tower to have Bruce treat him; not a doctor who would expose his identity. They didn’t trust doctors because of a similar situation that had happened with one of their other members, who did kill themselves after backlash from their family and community.

Peter had to give answers as to why Spider-man would try to kill himself, not Peter Parker. That only upset him more, and made him feel as though people didn’t actually care about _him._ People cared about Spider-man. Who gave a fuck about the kid under the mask?

Wade. Wade did. With his help, therapy, medication, and a lot of hard work, Peter had come very far.

When Peter finally came home, his hair a trifling mess from the mask and wind, he went upstairs to the bathroom to clean himself up. In the bathroom stood Wade, his hands shaking and covered in blood as he held a cloth to his nose that was beyond soaked in red. He, from where Peter was standing at least, seemed to be trembling. Whether it was fear or blood loss Pete didn’t know. Carefully he moved to his husband and sat him on the floor of the bathroom.

“Are you still bleeding?” Peter whispered.

“No.” His voice was weak and quiet. Wade had never seemed so… small. There was no other way to describe it. His presence was barely there. His voice was nearly inaudible. He was sank back against the wall in a ball. He was small.

Gently Peter set the soaked cloth on the tiled floor, Wade watched with sad eyes and mumbled about not meaning to make a mess. He was immediately reassured that it was okay. Carefully he helped him take off his crimson stained shirt, setting it with the cloth.

“Let’s get you something to eat and drink, then take a bath, okay?” Peter whispered, Wade nodded silently. He never had seen him this quiet. This weak. Wade was the strongest guy he knew, and his dads were superheroes. “Stay here. I don’t want you to faint or something.” He gave a gentle kiss to Wade’s forehead and stood, using the wall to help himself up. Slow grey eyes watched his husband saunter out of the tiny bathroom and down the hall. Once he was gone to get him a snack he looked down to his hands. God. You’d think he had just murdered an entire village or something. It was barely sticky anymore in some places, it was already drying to his arms. It was a disgusting feeling. Slowly he reached up to the counter to pull himself to his feet.

“W-Wade.” Peter’s voice scared him and nearly made him slip. Peter quickly set down whatever he had brought up and moved to sit Wade on the closed toilet lid. “Don’t push yourself.”

“I’m fine kiddo. I just need to wash this friggin’ shit off my arms. It feels gross.”

“J-Just wait until you’ve drank some water first at the least.” Peter urged, moving back to the water bottle that had been abruptly set down on the floor. Cautiously he brought it to Wade’s lips, a soft large hand rest on Peter’s to aide him in giving himself a drink. Oh. He needed that, and he didn’t really realize it. He drank nearly all of it immediately, his body was craving the taste of water. That happened a lot when he was little.

He sat in silence was Peter filled up the tub with water that was a bit too warm, how Wade liked it. Once it was at a sufficient height Pete moved to help Wade undress the rest of the way and move him into the tub. He soaped up a washcloth and gently washed his arms and hands, then his cheeks. Wade leaned into his touch and looked in his husband’s eyes. Peter paused to just smile and hold his cheek tenderly on his palm.

“I love you.” Wade whispered.

Blushing feverishly Peter grinned. “I love you too.”

Wade’s smile grew then, Peter blushed like they were thirteen still. God. He was perfect. He hoped to Whatever that Peter stayed that way.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter was trembling. He didn’t want to be here. This was the first time he didn’t want to come.

Wade held his hand tight as they went up the hallway of the living room of the penthouse. Nothing looked the slightest bit different since Tony was here.

“Did you take your meds this morning?” Wade asked softly as they were led by a maid. They still had maids even though Steve didn’t want them. He didn’t want any of the help, but Peter had it so they automatically got paid because he knew that Steve needed them.

“Yeah.” Peter sighed and leaned against Wade’s arm. Today was Wade’s turn to be strong. That’s how it worked for them. They took turns being strong for one another. Today was Wade’s turn.

Peter stood straight as they reached the living room, he wasn’t honestly sure why they had help showing them around. Peter knew his way. They both did actually. Steve was sitting in what was known as Tony’s chair. It was Tony’s. Only he ever sat in it, it was an unspoken rule. He was sank back, his face pressed into the side of the chair that extended from the back.

“Dad?” Peter whispered.

Startled Steve looked up, his eyes were bloodshot and there was now a wet spot on the lounger. “Peter,” He wiped his eyes. “It must be later than I thought.” He laughed softly as if it wasn’t obvious that he was just crying.

Peter opened his mouth to say something. About him crying or about how he needed to move on already but he didn’t. He just closed his mouth and nodded. He didn’t Wade’s half-proud smirk either.

“Who’s hungry?” Wade smiled between the two then.

    Together they decided it was a pizza and junk food sort of night. Peter and Wade hadn’t had one in a while and decided that some comfort food was well deserved for them all. After they ate instead of scrambling out the door to get home and get to bed so Peter would be ready for training in the morning they stayed for a movie. All three of the men sat on the couch, Wade sat into where the arm met the back of the couch, Peter with his head on his chest and the rest of him curled around him. His legs were pulled onto his dad’s lap as they watched some cheesey Lifetime special that was on. Peter didn’t take long to fall asleep against Wade. He almost always fell asleep at Steve’s house if they stayed any longer than dinner. Once while Wade went down to start the car and warm it up Peter fell asleep in Tony’s chair. Another time he fell asleep at the dinner table. Wade figured it was just something about being home that helped him fall asleep, or maybe it was the street noise. Peter couldn’t sleep in complete silence. Hell, who can? Dead silence is fucking scary.

    “How’s he been doing?” Steve asked suddenly. It was then he realized that Steve had wanted them to stay. That he wanted to talk to Wade about this without a phone bill to prove it. He, also, had been watching his son sleep for a moment or two.

    “Better. I think he’s getting a better grip on his anxiety. He lets me go to chemo alone without pushing it now. He is doing better.” Wade said softly and gently rubbed his husband’s arm.

    “But?” Yes, there was definitely an unsaid but at the end of Wade’s sentence.

    “But I’m scared that when I tell him I’m stopping treatment he’s going to go right back.”

    “You’re stopping treatment?” Steve whispered then.

    “I have to. We can barely afford it and it is taking more out of me than it is helping at this point. I haven’t had energy in days and my nose bleeds are worse and the vomiting-- and keeping Peter up with it all. He doesn’t deserve that.”

    “And what about when you die?”

    “What if I don’t?”

    “Wade. If you stop treatment you will. You know that.”

    Wade looked back down to the boy who was now clung to his arm as if he were a child still. “I’ve lived a happy life. I’d rather not die, but… I’m okay if I do. I met the love of my life. We know everything about each other. We know every story about one another. We’re practically senile. I can die happy as long as I know he’s safe.”

    “And if you can’t ensure that?”

    “Then I’ll start treatment again. I have to make sure he’s going to be okay.”

    “Wa--”

    “I know what I’m doing.” He said firmly. Peter shifted against him before rolling over, making him practically on top of Wade. He rubbed his eyes and looked between the two, immediately feeling the uneasiness in the air. “Peter, why don’t you get your stuff and we can go home and sleep?”

    “Okay…” He mumbled and pressed a tiny kiss to his jaw before getting up to go find his shoes.

    “If you can’t help, don’t. Don’t even try. Don’t make things harder on him than they already are. Be his dad and his trainer and that’s it. Don’t try to be his friend anymore. You aren’t.” Wade growled in a whisper before pulling himself up from the couch. He went back to the dining room, hugging Pete’s shoulders as he put on his shoes.

    “Everything okay?” Peter whispered, pausing the sleepy motions of tying his shoes.

    “Mhm.” He hummed and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I want to stop treatment.”

    Peter looked up to him then, both feet moving to the floor. “Do you think that’s what’s best?”

    “I do.” He nodded.

    “Then alright. We’ll call your oncologist tomorrow.” He offered a smile to his husband before finishing putting on his shoes and standing up. Wade grabbed his coat and helped him put it on before they did the same with Wade’s coat.

    Wade took his hand tight and made Peter pause.

    Tonight was both of their turns’ to be strong.

    Within the next few days after stopping his treatment Wade was brighter than ever, full of energy and ready to take on anything the day had to throw at him.   
    Peter had training at the Avengers’ Tower this early winter morning. It was the end of November and was already much more than brisk out. That’s New York for you. And Wade, being Wade, decided to tag along. Which Pete was more than okay with. It wasn’t the first time he had. It was kinda fun. Wade’s odd obscenities were somehow motivating.

    However Wade decided that today he was going to _help_ with his training. Wade was a model at one point, and still had an occasional shoot now even, and has always been fit. He knew how to work out.

    “Come on. One set, then we can take a break.” Wade encouraged as Peter panted heavily. He bore skin-tight black training suit, a much more breathable fabric than the one his actual suits were made of.

    “Set of how many?” He growled, he wasn’t angry _at_ Wade. He got irritated while working out, and it didn’t motivate him. It just made him want to quit and take a nap or eat or do something… human.

    “Sixteen.” Wade said calmly, he adjusted the mits on his hands. They were working on Pete’s hand-to-hand. It needed work. Bad.

    “Fine.” He huffed and got into stance.

    Wade counted him off in French before Peter began to hit each mit as told, sixteen times each. Not in order. As he would try to hit someone in a fight. So, not exactly… well done.

    “Done.” Wade announced once he hit the last one. Peter immediately stopped and stepped back, breathing harshly with his nose.

    Wade watched him go to get a drink and lean against the wall.

    “You alright?” Wade asked softly.

    “Yeah. Just… haven’t done this in a while.” He sighed and sank to the floor. Wade moved over and sat in front of him with a grin. “What?” Pete smiled back.

    “My husband’s pretty smoking is all.” He smirked.

    “Where is he?” Peter smiled and looked around. “Do I know him?”

    “Mhm,” Wade purred and cupped his cheek. “He’s your husband’s husband.”

    “Shit, that’s me.” He laughed before kissing him deeply. He missed this side of Wade. Joking and happy. It hurt him. That meant all the chemo was out of him. That he was just whittling away from the cancer slowly. Still, to see him as full of life as he was-- it was beautiful to Pete.

    “Wanna do suicide runs?” Wade smiled. Peter laughed sarcastically. “What if I race you?”

    “Deal. Then I really need to work on my hand-to-hand.”

    “Okay.”

   

  Not so surprisingly to Pete Wade won every round, and afterwards they were dead tired. They decided at that point it was best to go home and relax. Thursday’s session could be all about hand-to-hand…


	5. Chapter 5

    Thursday came slowly as it usually does. However nothing about Peter’s day was slow. He was ripped from his sleep when he heard something break on the floor. Wade had knocked down their alarm clock, whilst having a seizure… Luckily Peter knew what to do and they didn’t call an ambulance because he had a history of them at this point. There was no need for another ambulance bill.

    After they got the situation under control and Wade was settled they lied together on the couch, deciding that training could wait until next week. That they needed time together. They both knew that Wade was getting worse; and that now it was only time before he was gone.

    “I’m going to take you on a date tomorrow.” Wade whispered, penetrating the silence of their nearly empty home. “Okay?”

    “Okay.” Peter smiled and looked up to kiss him when his phone rang. With a soft groan he reached to the floor to snatch up his phone, answering it silently.

    “Peter--” The voice choked out. “We need you. W-We need Spidey. And all the help we can get.”

    “Wait-- Dad-- What’s going on?” Peter asked as he sat up on Wade’s legs. “Where are you?”

    “We weren’t ready, there’s so many-- Please, we’re in downtown--” The call was cut off then. Peter pulled down his phone and stared for a moment.

    “Wade, I think I need to go.” He whispered. “Is that okay?”

    “Only if I can too.”

    “You shouldn’t-- I can’t keep an eye on you. It sounds bad.”

    “Just let me come wait in the car.”

    Reluctantly he nodded, he figured Wade wasn’t going to take no for answer anyways.

    Oh, it was bad. It was so bad. Peter left Wade in the car far, _far,_ from this part of town. Thankfully. There were dead civilians everywhere. He even saw someone’s costume-- whoever the hero was he couldn’t tell who it was. He couldn’t tell if they were alive either; he didn’t have time to stop. He had to get to Steve. He had to help him. What in the actual Hell was even going on?

    Before long he reached Steve and a few of the others who were fighting hand to hand with… Civilians? Peter didn’t understand-- even as he was punched in the gut by a police officer. He gasped and hunched over, backing up so he could wind up a hit of his own to the cop’s face.

    He looked to his dad as the cop collapsed.

    “What the fuck is going on?” He shouted.

    “Loki.” Nat shouted to him. Of course, they were being controlled. What else? “At least we think. We don’t know, really.”

    “Got it. I guess.” Pete gritted his teeth. “So, what exactly is the plan here?”

    “Control the civilians, wait.” Steve said softly. “Relax, Pete.”

    “You sounded like it was a lot worse on the phone.”

    “They come in waves. We were overwhelmed.” Steve sighed.

    It wasn’t long before the next flood of people came washing in through the streets, more this time than before. Steve seemed to be doing fine, and so did Nat, and the few others that were there.

    Peter, however, struggled. He was better with attacks from a distance. He still needed work on hand-to-hand. He regretted not working on it now. He was hit repeatedly, his jaw was definitely broken now. And his knuckles too. There was one cop that made him feel pathetic. This man was huge and being controlled made him even stronger. He easily got hit on the smaller kid. He gasped in pain as he was punched in the side, disorienting him long enough for the man to pull out his pistol. Just as he looked up and regained his footing the man shot him once-- no, twice in the chest. Once was against his chest, right between where the rib meets the sternum. His face blanked as he looked down to the new holes in his chest. He fell to his knees, slowly lying on his side. He pressed his hand against it; you’re supposed to put pressure on it until help arrives. Fuck-- that hurt. That really hurt. He cried out when he did that, retracting his hands as he watched blood pool below him. His vision was soft, everything felt far away. Wade, he was so far away. Where was he? Was he still in the car? God he hoped so. He didn’t want Wade to see him like this. Bloody, crying, dying… He weakly pulled off his mask so he could breathe with some more ease. He closed his eyes and focused on just breathing. He hoped that “help” that’s supposed to come after you’re shot would be here soon.


End file.
